Ready Or Not
by Bluandfuzzy
Summary: Bulma Briefs has a desire. A desire that not every teenage girl would support. A desire so strong she would go through any obstacles to burn it out. Her desire: football.


Ready Or Not  
  
Mrs. Trunks' Mom  
  
SUMMARY  
  
Bulma Briefs has a desire. A desire that not every teenage girl would support. A desire so strong she would go through any obstacles to burn it out. Her desire: football.  
  
Bulma convinces her parents to move her school counties so she could start her senior year at a new high school, where nobody would know who - what - she was. So, in order to for-fill her dream, Bulma impersonates a boy and joins the high school football team. She is just as good as all the senior guys, maybe even better if given the chance, and she knew all the right things. What she didn't know was that a certain teenage boy was going to block her path. It seems Bulma has a challenge between her goal, and her hormones.  
  
Obviously a high school fic with plenty of B/V goodness and I suppose high school fics are never complete without G/CC & K/18 pairings as well. I don't know that much about football, even though I play it like every other day. So I'm gonna squeeze as much as I can from my brain. Lots of fruitful swearing and I DON'T favor writing sex scenes so NO lemons.  
  
But, if its what the fans want, I'll think about it. Oh, and the setting is in America, I just haven't figured out exactly where yet. Enjoy! R/R  
  
Disclaimer: My bologna has a first name, it's O-S-C-A-R! My bologna has a - oh, wrong story. I no own DBZ, or the Oscar Mayer song...too bad huh?  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
PROLOGUE  
  
In August the city lay down like an exhausted housewife. The air was full with clamorous tedium of a vacation that had offered nothing but time and had offered too much of that. The dullest students were niggled by the idea that, after all, school was somewhere to go. They yelled more loudly to deny this betrayal of their instincts. Other children quite frankly began to wonder what new teachers would be like, would chemistry, or fractions, or geography be as horrible as they were in earlier years? They shrieked at each other that it would all be unbearable. The smaller, frightened children grew quieter, not telling that they were afraid of the iron stairways, the class bells, the bullies, the strangers, the tall teachers.  
  
The loud rattle of dying summer rang in all ears. Bells on touring ice-cream wagons began to sound thin and doomed, and the children gathered round no longer seemed gay and friendly with the drivers, nor the drivers with them. Now the vendors and the buyers were tiring of each other, the wares were no more delightful than any other habit.  
  
Bulma Briefs sat on the brownstone steps of the park, watching Julie and Mag and Morgan play hopscotch. Briefly, she thought it might be fun to play too. She used to play with Kitty McDonald, who had moved to New Jersey with her family. Funny, she thought, half watching the chalked boxes, the hopping feet, and half seeing Kitty's bright little fox face laughing at her from the far reaches of Jersey, funny how much you can care for someone, and then forget.  
  
Bulma looked up and down the fields, allowing her eyes to wander throughout the beautiful park, seeing children standing or playing, or leafing through old comics, large, sweating, pruned women sitting on folding chairs. Her eyes settled on a large proportion of the right field. The teenage boys with their oversized shirts and baggy pants, running through the mud with the raggy old football, tackling each other to the ground and making goals. How she wished she was with them right now instead of the girls. But she was Bulma Briefs, daughter of the richest man in America. The beautiful, intelligent Bulma. It wouldn't be right for her to play with the big boys. No, not her...  
  
The girls had found out that three large safety pins strung together worked best for hopscotch. Bottle tops and small rocks had ragged edges that would unpredictably tip them over the chalked blocks. Mag Lewis kept glancing at Marty Banks who was playing one-on-one with another high-schooler. Today she had joined the hopscotch game with an air of amused ineptness that should certainly inform any watcher that she played from boredom.  
  
"For the love of God, Mag, if you're going to play, then play," Julie said loudly. "We didn't draw this hopscotch in the sky." Morgan laughed, and Julie went on, encouraged. "Besides, Marty Banks is never going to notice you, he's too popular and such a player."  
  
The three safety pins dangled in Mag's hand. She thought of throwing them in Julie's face, but was afraid of what coals of fire might be heaped up on her already burning head. She pitched the pins into box six and hopped after them in apathetic retrieval. Then she noticed Marty coming towards them, and it was too late to get out of the game. Mag glared at Julie, who had suggested it, and Marty eased up to Bulma without a glance at the hopscotch players.  
  
"Hi Blue," he said, settling back on the steps as if they were cushioned.  
  
"Do you have to call me that?" she sneered, though other people did and she didn't mind at all. "It sounds like I'm depressed."  
  
"I didn't name you."  
  
"There are these small blessings..."  
  
"What's eating you, babe?"  
  
"Nothing. I don't like being called Blue. Or babe for that matter."  
  
Marty debated for a moment, then decided to ignore it. "Want to go to a movie Friday night?"  
  
"No thank you."  
  
Marty took out a pack of cigarettes, lit one, leaned back blowing smoke first through his nose, then in a long, fast, irritated breath from his mouth. "This is all because of the other night, I suppose?"  
  
"Suppose away. I don't care.  
  
  
  
"Look Blue...I mean Bulma...you're seventeen years old. How long do you intend to wait before you kiss a guy?"  
  
For the first time since he'd sat down, Bulma turned to face him. A grimy T-shirt, old brown pants, white shoes. Glistening black hair, brown skin, eyes that slid beneath thick lashes. She thought a sunning lizard would resemble Marty. "What gives you the idea," she asked slowly, "that just because I won't kiss you, I never kissed anyone?"  
  
They stared at each other for an uncomfortable second. Then Marty flipped his cigarette to the gutter. "Have it your way," he said, getting up. He was attempting to look bored, which he was not, rather than angry and ashamed, which he was. "So long Blue," he said as he walked away.  
  
  
  
"Oh honestly, this is so much fun..." Mag's lilting laugh came from the street. "I just haven't played it in years..."  
  
"What do you mean?" Julie began. "We just-"  
  
"In simply the longest time..." Mag's desperate voice climbed over Julie's.  
  
Marty was across the field anyway. Bulma let out a deep sigh and continued to watch the children play. A few moments later, one of the boys playing football walked up to her and sat down. Bulma turned her head slowly to see who was disturbing her. It was Ned Summers, a jock from high school.  
  
"Saw the way you dissed Marty. Great going," he said.  
  
Bulma didn't know if she should take that as a compliment or insult, so she just turned her head away.  
  
Ned looked at her and gave a cocky smile. He nodded his head toward the field. "You wanna play?"  
  
A small hint of hope sprang into Bulma's eyes. "Now why would you think that I, Bulma Briefs, would like to join a pointless game of football?"  
  
"I've seen you play," he shrugged. "You've got a pretty powerful thrust, and you're tough."  
  
Bulma's cheeks reddened a little. Guess her secret was out.  
  
"But that was only while you were alone. I'd like to see how you do in teams," he went on. "So how about it?"  
  
Bulma, looking at her girlfriends, decided they were all occupied for a while. She shrugged and got up, dusting casually at her pants, and turned towards Ned. "You're friends wouldn't mind having girl on their team?"  
  
Ned got up as well. "Nah. You can be on our team."  
  
Bulma smiled at Ned and he started walking away, the blue-haired wonder close at his heels. Once they reached the football field, all the guys were sitting on a bench, some of them drenching their heads under the water fountain, others smoking a cigarette and talking. Once Ned and Bulma reached the benches where they were resting, many whistled at her.  
  
"Hey guys. Bulma here is gonna play the next quarter with us all right?" Ned spoke up.  
  
"What? Hell no we are not letting the wench play our game," one guy said. Bulma clenched her fists and took a deep breath through her nose.  
  
"Come on Dan, it's just for this quarter. She's real good."  
  
"I said no, Summers! This is my game. The only thing wenches are good for is a good lay."  
  
Bulma growled under her breath and stormed up to Dan before Ned could stop her. "Listen, boy. Unless you take that back right now I will kick your little ass up and down the street and then rip your tongue out and slowly wrap it around your neck!" A bunch of 'oohs' went through the crowd that had gathered around the small football team. Encouraged, Bulma continued. "I am Bulma Briefs and whether I'm a girl or an ape I'm playing football!" She walked over to one of the guys on the bench and grabbed the football from his hands and walked towards the field. Many of the guys shrugged and followed her.  
  
  
  
Dan shook his head and something under his breath and walked out to the team. "Fine, babe. You're on Summers' team, they're offense. I wanna see how you throw, so you're quarterback." Bulma nodded her head and walked toward her group who was huddled around each other. Ned, who was obviously the captain, stood in the middle and was drawing little X's and O's in the sand with a stick. [1]  
  
"Okay, Bulma. You're quarterback and I'm the center. Once the ball is snapped you grab it and move back. The running backs are going to try and keep the toughest players away from you. Mark," he pointed his stick to a tanned boy with spiky black hair and a red shirt. Red shirt, that should be easy to remember. "you're the wide receiver. You're gonna sprint forward a couple yards, run perpendicular just to throw off the defense, and then take off toward the endzone. Bulma, once you've got enough room to throw make sure Mark is open and then throw it to him. We'll take it from there. Sound easy enough?" Bulma slowly nodded even though every nerve in her body is telling her to run for her life.  
  
  
  
The group scattered and moved to their positions. At least Bulma knew how to pass a ball and how to stand the correct way. Once Ned had put the ball down and bent forward, Bulma nervously moved in back of him. She could feel the heat of the group packed up around her, she could hear their breathing. She could see the hard staring of the defense team as she shouted out a series of numbers. Staling for a second, she yelled hike and the ball was passed forcefully to her. Everything happened so fast. One moment Bulma was staggering backward looking for Mark, and the next moment she was slammed to the ground by a powerful force.  
  
Bulma closed her eyes and clenched her teeth, trying desperately to hold on to consciousness. "I knew she was too weak to play," a voice laughed. Bulma slowly opened her eyes and lifted her head in order to see Dan practically bawled over laughing on the ground. Ned came over to help her up but she just growled and mustered all her strength to pick herself off of the floor. Once on her feet, she spat on the ground and wiped blood from the corner of her mouth.  
  
Ned held onto her elbow to keep her from toppling over. "You okay?" he asked.  
  
In a raspy voice Bulma answered. "I'm fine. Sorry about that."  
  
"Not bad. Most people don't even catch the ball. Nice try though. Maybe you should stick with hop scotching."  
  
Bulma pulled her arm away from Ned's grasp and glared at him, all pain forgotten. "I'm not out of the game yet. I was just caught off guard, that's all. Now let's play."  
  
Ned raised his eyebrows and looked at her for a while. "Fine, if you're in the condition to play, then be my guest." He clapped his hands signaling for the team to get in their positions. "Second down, same plan!"  
  
This time Bulma was keeping a close eye on the defensive linemen. [2] Random numbers were once again shouted by Bulma, only this time more accurately and confident. She stalled again before letting the final word roll off her tongue. Once the ball was snapped Bulma looked left and right, one of the defensive team players was charging towards her, and fast. Her head whipped to the endzone and there she saw a red blur. Gripping the ball securely by the strings, the pulled her arm over her head and chucked the ball, as hard as she could, a split second before she was tackled to the ground.  
  
The ball spun perfectly and gracefully towards the red shirt. The man caught it and flung himself towards the ground, placing the ball for the next down. "Interception!" someone yelled from far away. Bulma's eyes widened and she sprang up from her position on the ground. Sure enough, a player on the defense team wearing a red shirt was doing a little happy dance on the spot where the ball was located. She scanned the rest of the field and soon found that Mark, the real receiver, was pinned on the ground.  
  
Laughter rose from the crowd that gathered to watch the game while accusing looks were given to her from her teammates as they passed by. Tears sprang to Bulma's dirt covered face and her eyes glistened as she rammed her fists repeatedly into the ground in frustration. "Dammit! I should have been more focused! I should've seen him!" A hand was on placed on her shoulder and she spun around.  
  
"That was an awesome throw, Bulma. You just passed it to the wrong person. It's okay. You can leave if you want to."  
  
Bulma shook the hand off her shoulder. "Thanks for your reassurance, Ned. But I don't give up that easily. Anyway, we play defense now. I can get the ball back if you let me play defensive back."  
  
Ned shrugged his shoulders and sighed. "You're one stubborn ass, I can tell you that much. Okay everyone time out!" he stated and walked away. Bulma dusted the dirt from her shirt and pants, even though it didn't help much, and retied her long dirt-covered blue hair into a ponytail. Dan walked up to her and spat. "You're still gonna play? After humiliating yourself in front of everyone? Damn, you're one stubborn bitch. And a real fine one too," he pushed his body up to Bulma and leaned down to her ear. "How 'bout after the game, we go back to my place and get cleaned up?"  
  
Bulma wrinkled her nose in disgust. He was a little too close for her comfort and his breath reeked of cigarettes and beer. She wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered seductively into his ear. "You know, if you're going to play offense, you have to cover the ball." Bulma brought her knee up and hit his groin, hard. Dan staggered back a few steps and fell to his knees trying desperately to stop the pain in between his legs.  
  
A smirk crossed her face as Bulma walked gracefully across the field, where her teammates were huddled. "Great going, babe. You just lost us the ball," one guy said. "Nick, dude, just leave it alone," Ned said. "Okay guys, they're still leading us by three points. It's the fourth quarter and we've got 12 minutes left. If we can get the ball back on our side, we might just have a chance to win. Nick, your defensive back, I want you to try and steal that ball, got it?" Bulma's shoulders dropped and she felt the impact of the tackler. "What about me?" she asked. "I'm sorry Bulma. You're gonna have to sit this one out." She slumped her shoulders more and walked away from the group. "The rest of you pick a target and go after them. Good luck," she heard Ned finish.  
  
The next few downs went by fast. The offense team never made it to their goal, meaning her team still had a chance to win. Everyone huddled once again expecting a plan for the next play from their captain. Ned motioned for Bulma to join the group, and so she did.  
  
"All right, everyone. This is it. There's seven minutes left in the quarter. If we can drag that out long enough, we should have time to make a touchdown. Okay, Mark. You're center this time. Once you snap the ball to me, I'm going to fake left and try to get away from the defensive linemen. Bulma, once that ball is in my hands, run for it. Run towards the goal and go as fast as you can! I'm going to make you the receiver this time. You have got to keep your eye on the ball, and you've got to catch it. Got it? Good luck."  
  
Everyone was in position. Dan was staring at Bulma with hatred flashing in his eyes. Bulma stared back hard, her face showing absolutely no emotion. The quarterback shouted a series of numbers and hiked the ball confidently. As soon as all men left their stations, Bulma took off toward her team's goal, Dan right after her. Ignoring the players storming up to her, Bulma flew past them all and had her attention focused on only one thing. She could feel it. The power surge that ran through her body. It was only a few seconds before she was only a few dozen feet away from the endzone. But Dan was hot on her tail. No, Bulma. Focus on the ball, she told herself.  
  
The boy looked horrified as he saw a flash move fast in front of him. Before anything else could be done, Dan flew to the ground, his head hitting the ground and his body going limp like a sack of potatoes, Ned had him pinned down.  
  
Bulma paid no more attention to anything else but the ball. Her legs felt stiff and her breath came in rasps. It was so close...now! She dove for the ball and hit the ground, her body tumbling around a few times before she felt the pain it had really caused. Her arm flew out from under her body and she smiled. "Touchdown!" The crowd went wild.  
  
Bulma held on the ball she had caught for dear life. Her teammates soon rushed up to her. "Bulma, you did it! We won!" Ned yelled out. Yes, she did it. She just won her first game of football, and it felt great. Like on cue, the pain of her fall came back and surged through her body. Bulma lost her grasp on consciousness and slipped into a dark, comforting place.  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
[1] I know every beginning of a game or a quarter starts with a kickoff but I really didn't feel like adding all that info then and there.  
  
[2] Defensive linemen are lined up evenly next to the center person and they charge after whoever's got the ball.  
  
Okay. There's the prologue. Keep in mind that this happened before school started and before Bulma knew of Vegeta and all them. The 1st chappy is gonna take a HUGE step from the prologue so you better keep your eyes strained. Please review and tell me what you think! If you have anything for me to improve my story on, that would be great too. Thank youzz!  
  
Later much~  
  
-*- Mrs. Trunks' Mom -*- 


End file.
